


I'll Have  Blue Christmas Without You

by Fionakevin073



Series: Long Live All the Magic We Made [14]
Category: The Tudors (TV)
Genre: Christmas, F/M, I don't even know how they really celebrated Christmas in Tudor England lol, Kids, Regret, Traditions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-19
Updated: 2017-12-19
Packaged: 2019-02-17 03:07:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13067835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fionakevin073/pseuds/Fionakevin073
Summary: Where Henry wants his children's first Christmas with him to be special.





	I'll Have  Blue Christmas Without You

**Author's Note:**

> A/N Hey guys! I know it’s been a while but I recently got a request from Lilyzinha asking for a prompt for one of her ideas. So here is a small shot regarding her prompt, on Henry knowing that Charles was there throughout his kid’s childhood.

i. 

Christmas the first year Anne returns to the throne is hectic to say the least. 

Henry is adamant that everything be perfect, right down to the last wreath. His children are ecstatic and even Anne is happier too. Henry can feel it; the joy they all have and he is desperate for it to be the best Christmas his children have ever had. 

Better than any they had before. 

He needs them to feel at home here. He knows how difficult it was for them to adjust to Whitehall and even for Anne, though she never talked to him about it in much depth. 

Everything needed to be perfect. 

He spent twice as much on decorations that year than he did usually and the presents he obtained for his children were endless and glamorous, yet personal. For Anne, he found two of the most well-bred stallions in all of France and bought them for her, amongst other books and jewels that he knew she would love. 

It never occurs to him that they had their own little traditions that he wasn’t privy to. Henry had not spent a Christmas with his children in years; Elizabeth had only come for celebrations slightly before or after Christmas, and he visited the boys after or slightly before Christmas at Pembroke. He never truly knew what they did during this time of the year and was bewildered to find his children preparing to leave the palace with their mother on a week before Christmas. 

“Anne,” he called out to her inquiringly, taking note of the warm clothes she and the children wore, “What is the meaning of this?” 

Anne looks at him, her eyes wary yet simultaneously defiant as she grabs a hold of George and William’s hands but before she can respond, Elizabeth excitedly exclaims, “Mama’s going to read to the children at the Orphanage and we are going to hand out blankets and bread Papa. Like we always do!” 

Henry felt a sharp sting deep down in his gut as he forced a smile on his face, concern swimming in his gut. He did not want his children surrounded by sickness and death— 

“We even did with Uncle—“ 

“The children won’t be around the ill,” Anne interrupts quietly, her eyes meeting his. 

He glances at her determined face and then at his children’s happy expressions and he doesn’t have the heart to tell them no, no matter how hurt he may be. This is something he knows, right down to his bones, belongs to them. He doesn’t have any part of this. 

“Alright,” he says finally, a look of relief flickering in Anne’s expression, “Be safe my loves.” 

ii. 

The second time he realises that they’re somethings he still is not really apart of is because of his sons. 

Snow has been falling for the past three days and Christmas is not for another two. Henry has just finished a meeting when he catches sight of his sons running towards him excitedly and opens his arms as Francis and William barrel into him. 

“Ah, my boys,” he says affectionately, leaning over to rustle his other two son’s hair, “Where are you off to?” 

“We’re going sleighing Papa!” George explains excitedly, tugging on his warm gloves. His brothers chime enthusiastically as well, but Henry feels himself frown at his words. 

“Sleighing?” he asks, slightly confused as he pulls back from the two boys in his arms to look intently at his eldest son. 

“Uncle Charles took us all the time Papa,” George says slowly, the pleasure on his face slowly disappearing as he notices his less than enthusiastic expression. Charles, Henry thinks darkly, his jaw locking as he thinks of his deceased friend. Of course. 

“We can not pull the sleighs ourselves,” Francis murmurs, looking as dejected as his brothers, “We wanted you to come with us, if you were not busy.” 

And Henry’s heart breaks because no matter how much he resents Charles or his own behaviour, he loves his children more. Always. 

“Alright,” he says, smiling brightly at them. 

They return hours later, with red cheeks that hurt both from the cold and from smiling too much. 

When they bump into Anne, he pretends not to notice the glint of sadness in her eyes when they tell her what they were doing. 

iii. 

Christmas comes and goes with resounding success, if Henry does say so himself. 

And he comes to a realisation that day, as he watches everyone dancing around him. He stares at Anne in her deep red gown, watches her as she dances in a circle with all of their children and he smiles. 

Because he knows that even though he hates Charles, even though he resents himself for what he did, it was worth it; because they’re happy. His children are happy and he has all the time in the world to make up for lost time. 

They can make traditions of their own now. 

— 

End.


End file.
